


Haeret Lateri Lethalis Arundo

by awarrington



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus gets leg cramp, and one thing leads to another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haeret Lateri Lethalis Arundo

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Virgil: _The Iron Entered Into Our Soul._ A very late (anonymous) entry to riventhorn's fabulous Happy Gay Farmers Fest, for this prompt: _It's a bitter winter day, and Marcus's leg is troubling him. Esca takes care of him._

Marcus woke with a gasp.

He sat up reflexively, heart pounding in his chest as the thick furs that had cocooned him from the winter’s night pooled around his waist, unnoticed. The cramping pain in his thigh blotted out all other sensations, leaving him barely aware of the cold combining with beads of sweat to cool his skin and penetrate his nightwear; and it was too dark to see his panting breaths condensing in the frigid air.

Frustrated, he spat a curse through clenched teeth as he tried, in vain, to relax his leg, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears that were gathering, from falling. His old injury hadn’t flared up like this in almost a year – not since returning from Caledonia the previous winter. But today had been a hard day.

He needed the intense throbbing to stop. Back then, Esca had always helped him, his former body-slave having figured out the best technique to quickly diminish the effects of the debilitating muscular seizures he had then been prone to during his convalescence. But everything had changed since then: Esca was no longer his slave, and Marcus was unwilling to call upon his freedman and friend to do anything that resembled his former duties. Instead, through the haze of pain that seemed to envelope him – he had been hurt before, _Mithras!_ he could control it – he struggled to remember what it was that Esca used to do so effectively.

Hands shaking, he pushed the furs further down and pulling up his night tunic, pressed his thumbs into the solid muscle with a quiet grunt. Far from the relief he was hoping for, his action caused fiery spikes of agony to shoot up and down the length of his thigh, making him cry out and his eyes once more to water. Having apparently made the pain worse – if that was possible – he clenched his teeth and panted heavily, focusing on trying desperately to relax the spasming muscles, at a loss what else to do.

On shaky arms, he pulled himself further up the bed, careful not to put any weight on his leg, until his back was against the wall. Once there, he threw his head back against it once, twice, anything that would take his mind off the pain that had him in its jaws and was squeezing—

“Marcus?” came Esca’s voice from the direction of the doorway.

Were he not consumed entirely by the burning hot throbbing of his leg, he might have heard the note of concern. Instead, he shook his head, exasperated with himself: the noise he’d just made would have woken all of Hades. Given that Esca was a light sleeper and their chambers in their small farm were adjacent with only heavy curtains for privacy, it was inevitable his friend would have been woken by it.

“My leg,” he gasped between pants, a wave of nausea distracting him from feeling shame at his weakness.

In the darkness, he could just make out Esca’s outline as he silently made his way across the chamber like a spectre, an oasis of calm amidst his turmoil, to sit on the right side of his bed. Just his presence was like a balm that soothed him.

Without a word, Esca leant across him and placed one hand just above his left knee and the other just below his hip; gripping firmly, he pushed them towards each other, holding the position.

For a few heart-stopping moments, agony seared him as though a white-hot brand has been pressed along the length of his thigh, and in the darkness, points of light danced before his eyes. He swallowed hard against the gorge that rose in his throat as tears finally escaped to silently roll down his face. Even so, not wanting to shame himself further, he grit his teeth, refusing to allow anything more than harsh grunts to escape his lips. Finally, like a tide ebbing, the pain began slowly to recede and as if he could tell, Esca’s grip gentled, his fingers kneading the sore muscles in rhythmic movements.

“You need to try and bend your knee – can you do it?” Esca quietly asked.

Still in pain, his mouth compressed into a thin line, Marcus nodded. Realising Esca couldn’t see him, but not trusting his voice, he shifted his weight to his right side, only then becoming conscious that he’d been clutching the edge of the mattress as though his life had depended on it. In response, one of Esca’s hand let go of his thigh to grip his ankle, and holding it tightly, slowly slid his foot along the bed until his leg was half bent.

The room was silent save for his heavy breaths.

Outside in the fields around their farm, a blanket of snow lay thick on the ground leaving the world eerily quiet: it was as though nature, herself, had curled up somewhere and gone to sleep.

The cramp had died down to a dull ache allowing Marcus’ awareness of his surroundings to gradually return like dawn spreading across the night sky, chasing away the shadows of remembered pain. For the first time he noticed how warm his friend’s hands were on his bare skin; and having moved position at some point, his face was so close to Esca’s head that the scent that was uniquely his – pine and spice and earthy - filled his nostrils, and they flared involuntarily as if to take more of it in.

Down that road was pain of a different kind, lying in wait to leap up and ensnare his heart – though he knew in truth it was already caught, and had been for some time.

He had believed his love for Esca was the love of one brother for another; that is until in the summer when seeing Esca talking to a young woman at market, laughing with her at something, and jealousy reared its head, green and merciless, and would not be ignored.

Since their return from Caledonia he had refused to consider the future beyond setting up and managing their farm – a decision they had made together. As for Esca and his personal needs, he had thought to take each day as it comes; but watching the woman smiling at Esca, and his friend responding to it, he could no longer ignore what was staring him in the face: that at some future point Esca would want to take a wife and start a family. The acknowledgement had felt like an arrow through his heart – perhaps Cupid had paid him a visit that day – and he ached with the thought of it.

Now, with his friend so close on his bed, Marcus mentally stepped back from temptation and dropped his forehead down to his upturned knee, flushing with shame and embarrassment at having to rely unfairly on Esca and his ministrations.

“You overtaxed yourself today.” Esca’s voice was matter of fact rather than accusatory, sounding loud in the silence of the dead of night.

Privately, he agreed. He knew he was pushing himself too hard that day, but there hadn’t been a choice: the winds from the snow storm the night before had taken a good part of the roof off the barn. Wet hay would likely rot or become mouldy and make their horses ill, so securing the roof had been of paramount importance before there had been too much damage to their winter stores.

“The work had to be done – you couldn’t have managed it all yourself.”

Esca didn’t answer, instead gently tugging on his ankle until Marcus straightened his leg. “Lie down.”

Doing as he was told, he scooted back down the bed and lay on the cold linen; it was only now, with nothing on but his nightwear, he began to register the cool air. When warm hands returned and started to knead his sore muscles, sliding effortlessly along the length of his thigh, he forgot about the cold, replaced by an inner heat. Flushing, he was thankful for the darkness, glad Esca wouldn’t see the effect he was having on him. It was in the darkness that Marcus usually indulged in his most private thoughts, entering a world in his head where yearning was but a memory.

Now, as Esca’s hands wove their magic, his mind drifted in a kind of post-pain euphoria, and he found himself imagining how it would be to lie with Esca, feeling his hands on his body not to relax, but to arouse. Marcus cut off the thought abruptly when he felt his cock stiffening, despite the continuing ache in his leg, and guilt washed over him, snuffing out the embers of his desire.

“Thank you, Esca, it’s much better.” He gently batted his friend’s hands away before his body began to betray him again. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Move over.”

Marcus’ heart thundered in his chest. “What?”

He heard Esca sigh and wished he could properly see his face. “Heat, Marcus: you used to take a bath when you got cramping.” It was true – and it was the bathing complex he missed most about his uncle’s villa. “I’ll stay here and help keep you warm,” Esca added, giving him a gentle shove. “That way the pain will be less tomorrow and you’ll thank me for it.”

Marcus wanted to protest, but he could hear Esca’s tone of voice – the one he used when he was at his most stubborn. He could argue, but knew it was pointless, especially as he didn’t have a good enough reason to reject Esca’s offer – or at least one he was willing to share.

Reluctantly, he rolled onto his right side and moved back, giving Esca room to lie down. The bed was narrow, not designed for two, which meant they would have to lie in close quarters. Marcus pulled the furs up and over them both as Esca pushed his back against Marcus’ chest.

“What are you doing?” The bed was small, but not _that_ small.

“Sharing body heat. You need to tuck yourself behind me so I can help keep that bad leg of yours warm.”

Marcus flushed – if they’d adopted the same position while seated, Esca would be perched on his lap. His traitorous cock, which was already half-hard, twitched in approval, and Marcus closed his eyes feeling a mixture of dismay and embarrassment. The thing had a life of its own, unlike its master, unfettered by either taboos or boundaries. Shifting position, he spooned behind Esca, but crucially didn’t allow his groin to press against the firm little arse he’d been secretly admiring for months.

He couldn’t allow himself to fall asleep, but had no idea how long it would be to dawn, when he could reasonably rise. There was no sign of light around the shutters - at this time of year, compared to Etruria where he grew up, daybreak arrived so much later, and Helius’ journey across the sky was shorter, giving them little time to undertake all the daily tasks necessary to run their new farm.

If they had chosen to grow crops, then winter would be a fallow period with little to be done, but both being keen riders, they decided on rearing horses – a passion for both of them – which needed daily exercise and care.

Listening to Esca’s breathing evening out in sleep, Marcus allowed himself a rare moment of indulgence, enjoying the heat of Esca’s body suffusing his. Moving his head a little, he buried his nose in Esca’s hair so he could once again smell his scent, musky and familiar. A wave of gratitude washed over him at his friend’s attentiveness and kindness, in the way he had volunteered to do what Marcus had been unable to ask for.

The ache in his leg almost forgotten, he closed his eyes and reflected back on the last year and a half. They had come a long way, he and Esca, through many highs and lows. In blood and battle, their journey north had forged a bond between them that had so far proven unshakeable: Marcus had fully expected Esca, once he’d been granted his manumission, to return to what was left of his people; but to his abiding relief, the Briton chose to remain with him.

Marcus gently pressed his mouth to the top of Esca’s head, yearning for the kiss instead to be on Esca’s lips, and for his friend to be awake and willing to receive it. For now, Esca was his and he allowed himself to imagine a world in which his friend lay in his bed like this every night, sharing everything of himself. The idea should probably have disturbed his Roman sensibilities, but it did not, instead feeling nothing but contentment.

~*~

Heat: a flickering fire in his blood; euphoria; a dream, half remembered, fading.

Marcus’ eyes snapped open and he at once became aware of a number of facts: he had fallen asleep, despite his intention not to; it was some time after dawn, with enough light creeping through the shutters for him to be able to see clearly; he was much closer to Esca than he had been when he last had conscious awareness with his left arm curled possessively about his chest; his groin was pressed tight against Esca’s arse and his cock, apparently very happy with this position, was rigid – a fact Esca at such proximity could hardly miss, especially as, perhaps most mortifying of all, Esca was awake.

“Morning. How’s your leg?”

Flushing deeply, Marcus tried to surreptitiously pull away. “How long have you been awake?” He both wanted to know, yet dreaded the answer.

“Long enough.”

He didn’t want to think what that could mean. “It’s sore, but I’ll be able to walk on it.”

“Good,” Esca said and turned to face him. Still feeling embarrassed, Marcus couldn’t meet his eyes, but under the furs, he felt Esca’s hands on his leg.

Marcus quickly pulled it away, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m examining your leg to see how it is.”

Marcus’ face felt on fire. “It’s fine. I’m getting up.”

“Stay.”

One word, half-whispered, arrested his movement and feeling Esca’s hand on his chest, he lay back down.

They shared one pillow, their heads close enough that Marcus could feel Esca’s slightly sour breath on his face, though he couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” Esca said quietly.

 _You._ It wasn't something Marcus could bring himself to say aloud. He forced himself to look up, to meet the grey-blue eyes that studied him, uncertain what exactly it was that Esca was asking. “Want?”

Beneath the covers, he felt Esca take his hand. “Is this what you want?” Esca asked, guiding Marcus’ hand to his cock, as rigid as his had been before mortification had wilted it. Marcus pulled his hand away as if burned, an instinctive reaction of shame because Esca knew his secret.

“What are you doing?” His voice sounded much higher than usual and he winced for sounding like some vestal virgin, rather than a seasoned soldier.

“I’m offering you what you want, Marcus…” Esca grabbed at his hand again and pulled it back to cup his hardness through his tunic. “…and as you can feel, it’s what _I_ want too.”

He could feel the heat of Esca’s manhood pressing against the palm of his hand, igniting his blood and firing his own arousal. Since Esca’s actions had come like a bolt of lightening from the gods, he had a hundred and one questions, but his ability to think had vanished as he rubbed his thumb over the head of Esca’s cock and found himself mesmerised by the utterly wanton expression that appeared on his friend’s face.

“Strip,” Esca demanded, as he moved to pull his night tunic over his head and then untied his subligaculum, Marcus quickly following suit. The morning air was still frigid but he didn’t feel it, his blood heated by desire and need. He’d barely got the cloth away from his body when he felt a callused hand wrap around his cock and give an experimental pull. The intensity of the touch sent a shudder jarring through him, and his breath hissing through clenched teeth.

Though he’d seen Esca naked many times, he had never allowed himself to really _look_ , to feast his eyes on the bounteous goods that now lay before him, and the knowledge that he now _could_ suffused him with joy. With undisguised delight, his eyes wandered over Esca’s surprisingly broad shoulders, his bare, muscled chest, the corrugated leanness of his flat stomach and the thin line of fair hair from his navel that led to a thicker thatch from which sprung his engorged cock. He licked his lips at the alluring sight: it was unexpectedly long and thick for someone of Esca’s stature, and when Marcus glanced up from it, Esca was smirking at him, as though he knew of his surprise at its generous dimensions.

For a moment, he allowed himself the thought of what it might feel like to take it inside of himself, to have it fill him, to be utterly possessed by it, before shame, so ingrained in him, banished such a degenerate notion. His needs were already deviant enough as it was. It took him a moment to recover enough from his distraction to reach out and take Esca’s glorious cock in hand, to feel its heat and fullness, soft skin over a core of iron.

An impatient snap of Esca’s hips gave Marcus the hint not to linger and with a sense of wonder at being allowed such intimacy, he began to stroke the turgid length from base to tip, feeling Esca mirror his movements, the touch sending shockwaves through him, setting his blood aflame.

So unbelievable as it seemed to him, Esca was willing to allow him this: to slake their needs, as men have done since time immemorial when women are unavailable. He would take what he could get – this precious gift – for however long he was given it.

How far would Esca allow him to go? Just to take each other in hand, like this, or more? The gods must have been listening to his questions, because at that very moment, Esca pushed him onto his back and moved to lie on him, face tucked into the crook of his neck, and Marcus obligingly opened his legs to cradle Esca between them.

His skin heated, his heart hammering in his chest now that their bodies touched from chest to hips, their cocks were pressed blissfully between undulating bodies in a rhythm as old as the gods, and each stroke seared him to his core.

Yet still he wanted more, as though the floodgates of his deepest, most secret desires had burst open and nothing could now stop the deluge of his passion. He wanted to taste Esca, and turning his head, licked an exposed ear, feeling his friend shudder at his touch and lift his head to gaze at him, his blue eyes clouded with lust.

Did Britons kiss? He had no idea, so experimentally he lifted his head and closed the short distance between their mouths, pressing closed lips chastely against Esca’s, feeling the stubble along his friend’s jaw rasp with his own. Apparently they did, as Esca’s tongue took but a moment to invade and conquer his mouth as surely as the Roman army had conquered Britain. Perhaps it was just.

Esca moved to suck kisses along his jaw and down his neck, the sensations burning through him, his body arching in response.

“Esca.” He whispered the name reverently, like the gentlest prayer.

Esca paused and pulled back to look down at him, desire burning in his eyes as he reached out his hand and pushed a lock of hair from Marcus’ damp brow. “You’re mine, now,” Esca declared.

The possessive comment sent a ripple of rapture through Marcus, the words the undisputed truth. Could it be, then, that Esca also wanted what he had secretly yearned?

“Yes, I am,” he agreed. _For as long as I draw breath._

Esca leaned down with renewed fervour and took his mouth, tongues battling and dancing. Their hips collided in perfect rhythm, as though they had long practice at it, and Marcus closed his eyes to better feel the sensations that were weaving together into the most glorious assault he had ever known. A part of him, still disbelieving, prayed that this wasn’t some wondrous dream from which he’d wake, devastated and alone.

His large hands mapped as much of Esca’s body as he could reach, finding his skin surprisingly soft, until they found a natural resting place curved around his arse. Their kisses became sloppier as they both drew close until they were doing no more than panting into each other’s mouths.

Feeling emboldened – because if this was a dream, or some vision given him by the gods, he intended to make the most of it – Marcus slid a finger between Esca’s buttocks until he reached his hole. Stroking over the puckered muscle, which caused Esca to gasp, he found the deeply intimate touch to be dissolute, yet unbelievably arousing.

Esca jerked his hips up, partially impaling Marcus’ finger, and then thrust hard, crying out and spilling between them. The sheer eroticism of the moment: seeing Esca come undone, coupled with the feeling of his hole pulsing rhythmically against his finger sent Marcus roaring over the edge in a shattering release.

It took until Marcus’ breathing had slowed to more normal levels to realise that while he was covered in warm Esca, Esca was naked above him, the furs they had slept under in the night long having fallen to the floor. Reaching down, he grabbed one of them and as he did so, Esca took the opportunity to slide off him. The cold air hitting his wet stomach made him shudder and he quickly enveloped them both in the warm throw.

Turning on his side to face Esca, Marcus was unable to keep from grinning as he touched his fingers to the pale face and felt the trace of a beard, running his thumb over Esca’s lips as they raised into a smile. The sight left an ache in his chest, burning his doubts to ashes. Leaning forward, Marcus gently kissed him, their tongues swirling languidly together, their ardour temporarily sated.

This was his home, here with Esca. What they now shared wasn’t the Roman way, but he was a long way from the place he was born. Since coming to these shores, many of his beliefs had been eroded or entirely overturned and that would, in all likelihood, continue. He offered up a silent prayer of thanks to Venus for fulfilling his deepest, most secret wish: the reality was far better than anything he’d imagined.

Forever curious, there was something Marcus had to know. “How long have you wanted this?”

“Since that day I left you with the eagle at the river.”

Marcus could remember that moment as though it were yesterday: the rain, his exhaustion, Esca’s determination, the fire in Esca's eyes, and his promise to return. As he'd watched Esca leave, he'd known then that nothing, short of Esca’s own demise, would have caused his friend to break his vow, and in that knowledge he had found peace.

“As I was running to find Guern,” Esca continued, “I realised for the first time since the arena that I had a reason to live – I _wanted_ to live and to be with you in this way.”

The words made Marcus’ heart clench like a fist in his chest, and leaning forward, he held Esca’s eyes as he kissed him reverently, eventually pulling away.

“Why have you not spoken about this before?”

Esca extended his hand and ran a finger down his cheek, a sad look in his eye, perhaps for all the time they had wasted. “The same reason you didn’t. I didn't know it for certain until this morning. I've been waiting all this time for a sign – something to tell me you felt as I do.”

“I do.” Marcus could say no more, not yet ready to divulge the depth of his feelings. “Haeret lateri lethalis arundo.”

“Yes,” Esca quietly agreed.

Outside, a cock crowed, breaking the moment.

“We should get up,” Marcus said reluctantly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “The farm won’t run itself.”

“Why? There’s nothing urgent needs doing today. We’ve fixed the barn, the horses have hay, and anyway you should rest.”

Marcus grinned down at Esca. “If we stay here, I don’t think either of us will be getting any rest.”

“I’ll make sure you keep the weight off your leg,” Esca said and then disappeared under the fur. A moment later, Marcus’ cock was engulfed in warm, wet heat.

A part of him was shocked that Esca would do such a thing, to debase himself so, but it was only a very small part, another old belief falling by the wayside. The rest of him lay back and pushing the fur away, watched with undisguised delight.

[finis]


End file.
